Lyrics:
a yard
'Cos see, he the type of cat that be thinkin' he hard
I told him if he gonna come, he got to come by eight
But Hud don't never listen what I say
I am chopped and screwed RIP to Pimp C
You’d think I was from Texas but I come from Tennessee
We party all night and we on that Hennessy
I want
Come on out
Right now, Im gettin angry
Took a step back cuz it could get dangerous
Please don't shoot its just me, Thug Queen, a horse stealer
of the struggle
Eattin good ain't talkin ruffles
I need a steak up on my plate
A1 cuz of the hustle
Betta watch out for them bustas
Send a b*tch to come n touch ya
like a visa with no Chip
Hoe you surrounded by a don
And i stock a hoe like john
Ya’ll ain’t got no calcium
Da pick no bone with me
Im pure as fuck
bricks
Down in Camdon, we handlin' to D.C.
Chips on fights with China White's by they tight PP
Wanting PC but all they get is good dick or four clips
For
cousin
Your going to see what I was saying
I always knew I had great value
It was just off brand
He took them Shaq's right off my feet
I was jumping with
(Why is it always rayy?)
(Here comes a new challenger!)
Yea I got a Z-Saber
Nah I'm not getting you, getting paper
You out of your mind, lil bitch
attached
I turned in all my rap chips I'm earning my bachelors
By dating all the models and actresses
I'm learning all the potholes in every single barrio
yo see, I tore up the game when I
jumped out the range, ice
went bling from the watch to the chain
Chicks on the dick like, 'What's that nigga' name?
clipped
Clip through the map, too much dip on my chips
I was doing the most, she was still by my hip
Bro just sent the pack, that's three critical hits
in Miami white linen
Chips big spendin', walk up out the club with a shit load of women
Soon as I see what I like I'ma get it
I'ma get it, ooh, I'ma
the lawn
Just see what thoughts come into my mind this time
Figure out how to make the syllables rhyme
Criminal with the flow
Don't know where it came from
like a pro, she comes out the clothes
[DJ Quik]
But, uh, she flips the dildos
Whether in the Pumps, Nikes or the steel toes
Dre, you can spot it in
right
And still I sit and lie awake all night
Oh, all of the DJ's surely have taken a lesson
Try talkin' trash and I'll come with my Smith and Wesson
Yo, hand me my surfboard
I'mma surf on these niggas real quick
You know what I mean, show these niggas out
See whose real and see whose fake
Bout to catch a vibe by myself on a late night
Hustle for the bag still tryna get the pay right
Can't nobody really match up with me
See a lot
mornin' I learned how to make a pair of dice out of some toilet tissue
Fan mail from my fans, get up out of jail
Waitin' for my court appeal
[C-Bo
style
Buda, bang, bang, bang, bang
Mek me tell you weh she like
Undercover wit it, she nuh love di bagga hype
Nah see her ah day, she only come out
the serious thugs
You couldn't tell me a thing
I was like my brother
Words went in one ear and out the other
Slangin' and bangin'
With a chip on my
spaz out
I got a whole lot to spaz about
See my life ain't been easy by a long shot
Came a long way from a chrome pot and lbos getting zoned out
See, I
a jingle
Single as a Pringle
Trynna dip my chip
She wanna ride with me
Cause she saw my whip
Big Ju swagged out
I know you see the drip
I rock a big
with my concrete jungle, no Tarzans and Janes
Diesel by the bundles and the hard grams of Caine
D's when they come through, it's hard to get some change
a bigger plan
I got a good side and a bad side
Just don't let the bad come alive
Dont let the bad come out at night
I still can ching although a likkle knife
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